"You do not believe that—that he is changed?"
"To be honest, ma cousine, I find it difficult."
Gabrielle turned impulsively towards the man who had entered and stood apart near the window behind her.
"Michael believes me," she cried.
The eyes of Breton and Englishman met.
"Does Monsieur Berrington believe in him?" asked Jéhan slowly.
"In Morice Conyers?" demanded Michael quietly. "Yes, Monsieur le Comte, I do—until he disproves such belief."
De Quernais shrugged his shoulders, spreading out his hands with an impatient gesture.
"I ask your reasons, Monsieur," he said. "I too am ready to believe, if possible, but you see the case. My cousin is a friend of the Revolution, a member of the Society which congratulates murderers. He is so enthusiastic in their cause that he plays a trick, which,—your pardon, Gabrielle,—is not in accordance with honour, and comes to Brittany for the purpose of stirring up his people to join what he is pleased to call the Cause of Liberty.
"He comes—with Marcel Trouet, a spy, Revolutionary, murderer, liar,—and arrives at Kérnak, where he—again your pardon, ma cousine—continues the policy of his friends, and calls himself a Royalist and my friend. Then, suddenly leaving Kérnak, he comes to Varenac, where comrades of his and Trouet's already await him. He sees his sister, tells her a tale—a wonderful tale of conversion—and disappears. What do you think of this story?"